When a friend told Warren Anderson of Grand Marais about an invitation extended to Korean War veterans to tour the formerly war-torn country, Anderson was intrigued. Wondering what Korea looked like today, 60 years after combat ended, Anderson applied and was one of the 30 former servicemen who journeyed to South Korea on May 21 – 31, 2013.
Anderson was accompanied on the trip by that friend, Marvin Haas of Edina, Minn., also a Korean War veteran.
There were actually two trips, the primary tour and an optional trek to the demilitarized zone (DMZ). Anderson signed on for the four-day DMZ tour as that was actually the most interesting for him. The DMZ is about two miles south of where he was stationed with the 329th Communication and Reconnaissance Unit, Advanced Detachment in what is known as the “Iron Triangle.”
Anderson said the tour to the DMZ was very restricted and there was a heavy military presence—on both sides of the zone that divides North and South Korea. The war is not over, especially on the part of the North Korean government. When the fighting stopped 60 years ago, there was no final peace treaty, just a ceasefire. The DMZ has been the scene of a standoff of military forces since then. If North Korean forces ever cross the DMZ, the United States is automatically at war. Under the 1954 ceasefire agreement, the U.S. is committed to defend South Korea.
Despite the tension, there was a moment of human connection across the divide as Anderson viewed the North Korean outpost tower. Looking through the high-powered binoculars loaned to him by a South Korean soldier, Anderson saw a North Korean soldier looking back at him. The North Korean soldier waved and Anderson waved back. “That really surprised the South Korean soldier with me,” said Anderson. “Something like that rarely happens.”
The tour of the DMZ included a look at the United Nations building in Panmunjom where the ceasefire was negotiated. Anderson also got a look at two of the seven tunnels that had been found since the end of the war—one of them large enough to drive vehicles through. Anderson said that was quite impressive, especially considering the tunnels were hand-dug. “It must have taken years,” said Anderson.
Asked if any of the landscape at the DMZ was familiar, Anderson said yes, he could identify the mountain peak dubbed “Old Baldy.” He said it earned its name because constant bombing had denuded the hill. The same hill was called “Mountain 23” by the Chinese, presumably because the ridge had changed hands—between the North Koreans and Chinese and the American and British forces—23 times.
At 3,500 feet, the peak was coveted by forces on both sides as a strategic artillery post. Anderson worked as a cryptologist at the base of Old Baldy where he intercepted enemy communications. Some of the communications obtained were in Morse code and other intelligence specialists could decipher them. However, if messages came through in Chinese, Anderson, who had trained and learned Mandarin Chinese at the Defense Language School in Monterey, California, was called.
“I’d hear, ‘Hey Anderson, get up here!’” recalled Anderson, who said most of the messages were routine, except for one regarding the infamous Mount Baldy. “They didn’t have a code word for Mountain 23, so when I translated that I knew they were referring to Old Baldy. It was urgent and we were able to decipher that an attack was imminent,” said Anderson.
The attack was preempted and later reported in the military newspaper Stars and Stripes as one of the major battles of the war. The Stars and Stripes reported that 3,000 Chinese had been killed and 100 American soldiers had lost their lives. Anderson had no way to confirm the loss of American lives, but he said when he used his cryptography skills on the day after the battle, the morning report by the North Korean and Chinese forces reported a loss of only a handful of men.
On his return visit, Anderson was pleased to see that Old Baldy was no longer barren. Except where it is kept clear in the DMZ, the mountain’s vegetation has grown. “There are big trees now, big beautiful spruce,” said Anderson.
The trip brought back many memories, some of the miserable living conditions. Anderson recalled that their encampment was in a field of clay. “There was heavy, heavy, clay – if your boots were not laced tight, it would pull them right off your feet,” he said.
Korea was hot in the summer, said Anderson, similar to summer in southern Iowa. And it was bitterly cold in the winter, dropping as low as 29 below. Anderson slept in a squad tent full of cots with a tent heater that didn’t quite do its job. “You would be warm on one side, cold on the other!” said Anderson.
Although the 329th encampment was three miles from the front, sleep was difficult with the rumble of artillery in the distance— especially knowing that artillery had the capability to fire six miles.
“Where we were wasn’t very pleasant, but we made it as pleasant as possible,” said Anderson, adding that the main base was better than the bunker where he spent a month trying to gather low-signal intelligence. Anderson said he spent Christmas of 1952 in that bunker with four other soldiers, next to a bunker that housed a 75mm recoilless rifle. As the intelligence specialists waited to gather information they played cards. It was terribly noisy though, said Anderson, noting that they had to shout to one another during bridge games.
Games were interrupted when the 75mm crew had acquired a target. Anderson said the gun crew radioed his bunker to warn them when the 75mm was to be fired. When it was fired, the landscape lit up, making the U.S. soldiers vulnerable to return fire. “We would get down as far as we could then,” said Anderson.
It was terrifying the first few days, but when Anderson realized that the bunker’s thick layer of sandbags did a good job of protecting them, he was more comfortable. “As comfortable as you can be when you are being fired on,” said Anderson.
Anderson said he only had to fire his weapon—an M2 carbine—once. It was during a big defensive effort and Anderson said he had to fire over the sandbags. “It only lasted about five minutes,” he said, adding sadly, “I hope I didn’t kill anyone.”
Most of the time, Anderson had direct contact with the men who were deemed enemies. Part of Anderson’s job was interrogating prisoners. Anderson said interrogations—indeed all of the conflict—was different then. “We knew who the enemy was,” he said. “They wore uniforms.”
Anderson was successful getting intelligence from his prisoners. He spent a great deal of time with the prisoners, eating with them and sleeping near shackled prisoners. Most of the prisoners were older than he was. “I used a soft sell with them,” he said.
The prisoners knew that if they tried to escape they would be turned over to the South Koreans. “They feared that, as the South Koreans hated them,” explained Anderson.
After 7-10 days, prisoners were transferred to a U.S. POW camp, where they were able to send and receive mail, thanks to the Red Cross. They even got to see a feature film once a month. “They were hungry for what life was like in the United States,” said Anderson, who communicated with one of his former prisoners for a time after the war.
Back in Seoul after the DMZ tour, Anderson and Haas were treated like royalty at the luxurious hotel. A banquet attended by 3,000 people was held, with all kinds of dignitaries, including the president of South Korea, Park Geunhye. Anderson said, “She is a lovely woman, very much in favor of reunification.” In front of President Park Geun-hye, Anderson and other veterans were presented with Peace Medals.
The veterans were guests of honor at a special joint ceremony by the troops of the 25th Infantry Division, Republic of Korea and 25th Infantry Division, U.S. Anderson was asked to review the troops. When he said he didn’t know if he could walk far in the heat, organizers said no problem, he could ride. When he noted that it might rain, organizers said no problem, we have rain gear. So, Anderson got to ride in a Jeep with a Korean general—and he got to keep the rain gear, which he said was really nice.
After the review, the veterans toured a cemetery which is the Koreans’ version of Arlington National Cemetery. Each veteran was presented with a huge bouquet of beautiful yellow roses. Anderson saw an elderly Korean woman sitting quietly and on the spur of the moment, was moved to give her the flowers. She tearfully spoke with the tour guide, who told Anderson that she had lost her young daughter when Chinese tanks came through Seoul. “It was a reminder,” said Anderson, “of the horrors of war.”
He said he does not regret his military service, but he questions the necessity of the war. A war that was not even declared but resulted in over 30,000 deaths. A war that devastated the Korean people—Anderson recalled visiting Seoul during the war and seeing young men offering their sisters for sale. “War is nasty,” said Anderson sadly, “People are just in survival mode.”
“When I came back, I heard it was just a police action. It’s all just politics,” Anderson said, stressing that he still questions the need for any war.
Seeing modern-day South Korea was uplifting, though. Anderson said the Korean people seem healthy and happy; the streets of Seoul are clean; there are many lovely parks in the city of 11 million people.
The trip was an amazing experience and one that Anderson encourages other Korean vets to try. The Korean government subsidizes the trip, paying half of the travel expenses. Lodging and most of the meals are provided and Anderson said the meals were fabulous. Another trip is planned this year. Anyone who would like information can contact Anderson at (218) 387-2365.
Perhaps the most important part of the tour for Anderson and Haas was the gratitude of the Korean people. Anderson said as they walked the streets of Seoul with their tour name badges, people young and old came up to them to say thank you. Anderson smiled, “I must have been hugged about 20 times.”
Leave a Reply